The Way We Were
by Magical words from Muggle pens
Summary: Hermione and Draco are in a beautiful relationship. But there are secrets that can break them. Can Draco Malfoy ever truly let go of his Slytherin ways? ... One shot.


**The Way We Were**

Lips are raining along every line on my body, drawing their own path. The flutter of his mouth against my belly is so soft that I want to cry at the gentle sensation.

I can feel the usual blush creeping over my bare chest.

I've never been this naked before another man. And I wonder what he sees in my average looking body, my out-of-control hair, and my upturned nose.

But when he looks up at me while placing his touch along my body, I know that he sees something. The lusty veil over his eyes don't lie about that.

The sensations are bursting through my walls, forcing out screams from my clamped mouth. He smirks as I fail to hold back my desire for him.

Slytherin.

When the torrent of passion subsides and he pulls me to his side, I've never been happier. I've never been more ecstatic about the fact that I was wrong.

To call him my enemy, to condemn him for being a Malfoy - a Slytherin.

"Sleep," he mumbles, succumbing to it himself. "Think - later"

I smooth out the pale blond pieces of hair, hiding the sight of his sleeping figure from me. I can smell his vanilla scent all along his body, even on my own and it coaxes me to sleep.

I can't wait to wake up next to him - day after day.

* * *

It's been days since Draco left for some extensive Ministry work and I'm perusing through my books, drawing up plans and strategies. Hoping we'll win this war.

I feel guilt welling up inside of me when I cannot think of anything else besides the toned muscle that makes up Draco. The way that muscle ripples when I dig my nails into his back.

"Hermione!"

I abandon my guilt and my books when he apparates in. He's already removing his robes as I jump onto him, wrapping my legs to bring him closer.

It's the way we say hello.

Draco's been gone for a week and we kiss like it's been years. Lips fused together, ignorant of the need for air.

He's so dissolved in the kiss that I rock my hips just right so that he will get the hint. Less clothes - more touching.

While he reaches for the clasp of my bra, I tug at his shirt and he drops me. I fumble as my foot awkwardly holds me up.

"_Draco_!" I look annoyed.

My features of mock frustration become serious when I see that he has deliberately released me. He jerks when I approach him and he turns away and storms into the bathroom. The door slams on my face.

How dare he turn his back on me?

I march up to the door and practically blast it off its hinges to see Draco leaning over the sink, breathing in shallow pants.

"What's going on?"

"Hermione - please," he says with his lips pursed up.

"No Draco. I haven't seen you for a week and there's a bloody war going on! I have been scared out of my mind, worried that Death Eaters will capture you"

"Hermione," he tried to interrupt. But I had started and I wouldn't stop.

"Your father was one of them and we killed him! They won't touch Harry because Voldemort wants to duel him himself but they won't stop from going after you and punishing you for turning your back on them"

My voice is inflected with panic and I'm on the verge of hysteria. But it still doesn't convey the fear I have inside.

"You're finally back and you recoiled from me like I burnt you." The hurt is so evident.

"Let's talk about this later," he says dismissively.

Angered, I yank at his arm to pull him back and he flinches. He reflexively grabs the wound on his forearm, soothing it.

And I see that it's not a wound but a blazoning green skull, with a hideous snake twisting viciously at me.

I don't think my eyes are shocked enough. My jaw isn't hung wide open enough.

"Hermione listen I-"

"You got the Dark Mark?" I step away. "You got the DARK MARK!"

He stays silent.

"I just raved on and on about how I feared for your safety. But that fear was unwarranted. Because you're one of _them_!"

The floor seems to be more interesting than my face, judging by the line of his sight.

"They've murdered hundreds of people - our professors, our classmates, my _parents,_ my _friends_"

He knows this. I know he does. He was with me when I clung to him in my tears. Clung to him with grief.

"Tell me it's not true," I plead. I want - no need some understanding - some logic.

I softly repeat the plea again and again until it's a chant, but his silence is speaking words I don't want to hear.

"Get out"

He looks up finally. "Herm-"

"_Don't_ say my name. Don't touch me, don't look at me, don't do anything that gives you any connection to me. Just get out before I kill you"

"You wouldn't," he states. My chin is raised in defiance of absolute the truth of those words.

I wave the door open, his eyes bore into mine, and he hesitates before walking out.

I don't feel the familiar happiness that comes with realizing that I'm right. But it's true - I was right all along.

Once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin

* * *

It's been ten years since that dreary day and with every passing day I wish I could forget it.

We beat the odds and won the war. But still lost so many lives - Harry...Dumbledore...Tonks...Lupin...Bill..

I achieved my dream of becoming a Healer, which I had put on hold during the war. Now I take care of so many that I fought along side.

I take my usual walk around the patients' beds, inspecting each and every one of them.

"Healer Granger! Bed 4 - Frederick is acting up," an attendant shouts.

I rush to the bed to control Leah Frederick, a permanently damaged patient, who occasionally spasms from the memories of the violence.

Why did I agree to sub in for this ward?

It's the saddest one out of them all. Empty faces...just staring up, reflecting the empty souls inside.

I pat the covers on Leah's bed as she returns to her vacant tranquility. Just like the rest of them.

The patient next to her doesn't even flinch or make any move to show that he has heard her piercing shrieks. He has never made a single movement in the past years.

The smug blond face that used to sneer down at me, now lies in an endless sleep. Burns are smeared across his body, over the mark. But he still looks as handsome as he did in Hogwarts.

I reach over to cradle my hand in his open palm and stroke his flesh.

_Hermione, _

The letter had started out plainly.

_I'm writing this early in case...just in case. I love you. Despite this fact, I cannot tell you that I'm taking a mission for the Order. I'm sworn to secrecy due to the sensitivity of this mission. In two weeks, after planning for seven months, I will be taking the Dark Mark. I will infiltrate the Death Eaters and hopefully give us a chance of defeating Voldemort. I honestly don't know how long I can continue the farce or how long I will stay alive. But I know that there's nothing that will stop me from going through with this. And maybe luck will have me alive and married to you. Maybe it will not. I just hope that I will be able to spend my days with you, ignoring the chaos and the danger. So forgive me for not telling you. I just wanted you to look into my eyes without fearing for my life. _

_Always_

_Draco_

I never forgave myself when I read it. I never forgave myself when I found Draco's body paralyzed under the Cruciatus.

I squeeze his hand while getting up and my chest tightens when I feel a momentary pressure come from his hand.

His body is absolutely still and I wonder if I've imagined it. Have I been wanting him to wake up so badly that I'm starting to hallucinate?

So I give him a kiss goodnight and return to my house, blowing out the candlelight burning on my bedside.

Its heavy vanilla scent slowly lulls me into another long night's sleep.


End file.
